


Shadow boxin' when I heard you on the radio

by Katarin



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Undercover, undercover marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:30:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katarin/pseuds/Katarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and G have to go undercover as a married couple. They figure some stuff out along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow boxin' when I heard you on the radio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tour_treasure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tour_treasure/gifts).



“I thought we were going for a run this morning?” Sam asked, stripping off his shirt in the changing room. G was leaning against the wall, arms crossed in front of him, watching him in that way where it looked like he wasn’t watching at all.

“And here _I_ thought we were going for breakfast.” He held up a bag with _Bagel Nosh Deli_ written on the side.

“You went all the way to Santa Monica to grab us bagels?” Sam asked, pulling on a clean, long-sleeved shirt.

G’s eyes followed his movements, lingering for just a second on Sam’s tattoo before Sam covered it up with his shirt. ”Whole wheat. I even got you lox!” he said with a grin, tossing the bag on the chair in front of him.

Sam picked up the bag with an eyeroll, shaking his head. G moved, sliding away from the wall and clearly on his way out the door but Sam stopped him. He reached out with one hand and pinned his shoulder against the wall.

A quick look around assured him that they were alone, but it didn’t keep him from lowering his voice. “If you’d stayed over, we wouldn’t have had this communication problem,” he said.

G laughed. “I don’t sleep, Sam. You said so yourself. When I don’t sleep, you don’t sleep. Why would I stay over?” He pushed away from the wall then, his shoulder rolling under Sam’s hand. He either had to let go or press the issue, and this wasn’t the time or place, so he eased up and let G pull away.

“It’s amazing, the things you don’t get, G,” Sam said, following him.

“Anything you’ve got, I don’t want.” Callen smirked as he led the way to their desks.

“Kensi, why do Mommy and Daddy keep fighting?” Deeks pouted at Kensi while he said it and Kensi rolled her eyes, smacking him.

“Heads up,” Eric called, leaning over the railing above them. They filed up the stairs, Deeks pulling up the rear.

“I’m not kidding,” Deeks said. “I refuse to be the child of divorce.”

\---

“Victor Renner,” Eric said, fingers clicking across his keyboard. “MA, PhD in clinical psychology. He’s part of a practice here in Los Angeles and specializes in Veteran care.”

“He’s subcontracted with the Marine Corps to clear soldiers for redeployment and care for PTSD,” Nell added, using the monitors to put images of Renner, his office and copies of his contracts with the government up on the monitor.

“And our interest in him is?” Deeks asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Doctor Renner is suspected of blackmailing twenty-two servicemen into running drugs and money in and out of Afghanistan and Iraq,” Hetty said as she strode into the room, frightening Deeks if the tiny little jump he gave was any indication. “Hopefully that’s reason enough for you, Mr. Deeks.”

Sam held in a grin at the grimace on Deeks’ face. “I take it the evidence is mostly circumstantial?” Deeks recovered, looking around.

“Exactly, Mr. Deeks. Not to mention we need to ascertain just who he’s working for and how he’s being kept abreast of the drug trade in these countries.” Hetty smiled that smile that Sam just knew used to send agents into fits of panic back in the Cold War era. It tended to panic him more than a bit now. “This man is using his professional connections to take advantage of veterans at their most vulnerable time. We need to see that he pays for it.”

The look on Hetty’s face might have been her making shooing motions with her hands for as clear a dismissal as it was. Sam grabbed a copy of the file and headed back downstairs.

\---

“Well, this is helpful,” G called out, clicking something on his laptop. Sam looked up, noting that the entire rest of the team did too.

“Share with the class?” Kensi asked.

“Looks like Renner’s lonely,” G replied, turning his laptop around so they could all see multiple browser windows, all open to Renner’s profile on a handful of online dating sites.

“He’s just looking for his own damsel in distress to save?” Kensi read aloud from one of them. “Does _anyone_ fall for that? Ever?”

“You’d be surprised,” Deeks said.

“Yeah, I bet it’s right up there with faking breakups in front of your yoga class, Deeks,” Kensi shot back.

Ordinarily, Sam would want to join in -- making fun of Deeks was their top team-bonding activity -- but G had that look on his face like he was about to deliver news someone didn’t want to hear. The look happened to be a grin, because G could be an asshole that way, but Sam would know that particular grin anywhere.

“How’s your fairy-tale princess, Kensi?” G asked and the smile on Kensi’s face dropped.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” Kensi said, and now Deeks laughed. “Some day, we’ll run into an entire crew of douchebag female criminals and I’m going to laugh when _you_ all have to be the bait.”

Kensi got up, probably to storm off, but Deeks raised a hand. “What kind of douchebags, and are these lady criminals hot?” he asked, and Kensi flipped him off. “I’m serious, Kensi!” He raised his voice, but she was on her way back to Hetty’s office, so he got up to follow her. “If the op consisted of drinking Four Loko and Icing other hot women, I’d be okay with that.”

Sam raised an eyebrow in G’s direction -- if Deeks kept that shit up, he was going to get punched. “No way,” G said, shaking his head. “Kensi wouldn’t go for anything so pedestrian. Sneaking into his apartment to put food coloring in his shampoo, yes. But punching isn’t nearly enough suffering.”

\---

Reconnaissance told them that Renner frequented a certain bar after work. Kensi got dressed in the changing room while G ran through the plan again. “All right, so Kensi’s going to be at the bar. Deeks is going to hit on her and keep going until she’s forced to leave-”

“Why do I have to be the one hitting on Kensi again?” Deeks asked. “Why not one of you two?”

“She’s _your_ partner,” Sam answered, letting disapproval into his voice. “Don’t you want her back?”

“Not to mention there’s no way Renner stands up to Sam over some girl he doesn’t know,” Kensi called out from behind the curtain. “He’s way too intimidating.”

“It’s the bald head,” G said, nodding sagely. “It terrifies most mortal men. And I can’t go because Sam gets cranky when I’m in the field without him. Someone has to be there to give him juice and put him down for a nap.”

“Oh, I’ll put _you_ down,” Sam answered, crossing his arms and scowling.

“Anyway,” G said, ignoring him, “Kensi flirts with Renner and lets him take her to his place. She plants the bugs, and we come up with an excuse to get her out of there. Sam and I will be in the car outside, listening to your every word and ready to ride in should you need assistance.”

“Yeah, about that,” Deeks jumped in. “Are we really going with the cover story that Kensi’s a doctor? I mean... is Kensi really someone anyone would trust with their internal organs?”

“You do know I’m still armed, don’t you, Deeks?” Kensi called out again.

\---

“ _I’m just asking for your number_.” Deeks’ voice was surprisingly annoying, even over comms. “ _I don’t see why you’re being like this._ ”

“It’s like I’m at Spring Break,” G said around the lollipop in his mouth. He was folding swans out of the wrappers again. “I wonder how much Jersey Shore it took to perfect that much dickishness?” Sam concentrated on the comms and didn’t watch how red the candy had stained G’s mouth. G reached up to press the comm button so Kensi and Deeks could hear them. “Call him Chad. Somehow, find a way.”

There was the smallest hint of Kensi trying to keep in a laugh, but it was drowned out by the harsh slapping sound of skin on skin. “ _Leave me_ alone _, Chad_ ,” Kensi said, only raising her voice slightly.

“That was cold, G,” Sam said, turning to him.

“Please, Kensi can handle herself, _plus_ it gave her an opportunity to slap Deeks. Everyone’s a winner.” G smiled at him, and Sam didn’t think about leaning over and kissing his red, red mouth.

“ _Thank you so much_ ,” Kensi’s voice came over the comms, possibly laying it on a little thick, but not so much as most people would notice.

“ _Not a problem_ ,” Renner’s voice, softer than Sam had imagined, said a second later. It was calm, relaxing, which made sense for a therapist but didn’t jibe with someone who would take advantage of veterans like that. That was what kept them in business, though. If bad guys had it tattooed on their foreheads, they’d be out of a job pretty quick.

“ _Is that a beeper?_ ” Renner asked, with a laugh.

“ _Yes_ ,” Kensi answered, laughing self-deprecatingly. “ _And before you ask, no, I’m_ not _a drug dealer. My roommate always makes that joke. I’m a doctor. Technically on call_.” There was the soft clack of ice ringing around a glass, and Sam assumed she was holding up her glass of soda water. “ _So, tell me about you?_ ”

It was good, but then Kensi always was. She set up both getting called away and why they’d have to go to Renner’s place, all in one throw-away sentence. Renner started going on and on about his practice and how much he loved helping people, saving them, and Sam wanted to puke.

“Why is it men always want to talk about themselves?” G asked. He’d taken the lollipop out of his mouth and held it in one hand, watching him. “Women get the bad rap, but if you ask me, men do it a _lot_ more.”

“Desperate for someone to show interest,” Sam answered. “Some men are needy like that.”

“High maintenance people.” G rolled his eyes, and they both listened to Kensi flirt and pretend to be interested in Renner’s golf game.

“ _Oh, I_ love _golf_ ,” she said, low and a little breathy.

“Versus the sort of people who spend hours sucking on lollipops in public?” Sam asked.

G grinned. “Don’t pretend you’re not into it.”

Sam swallowed. “Sorry about this morning,” he said, and at G’s blank look, he rolled his eyes. “Bringing it up at work, letting Deeks overhear?”

“Oh.” G shrugged. “It’s not really a problem, Sam. I mean, we always have fights like that. It’s part of how our partnership works. If we _weren’t_ bickering like an old married couple about nothing, they’d all probably be worried. Hetty would send us to couples therapy.”

Sam wanted to say something -- about it being an important conversation, not a fight about nothing, or maybe about how they needed to be more careful about keeping their illicit affair to themselves -- but Deeks took that opportunity to climb into the backseat of the car.

“Well, there’s nothing like an entire bar full of people looking at me like I’m pond scum,” Deeks said cheerfully. “Have you got a towel?”

Sam turned his head to look behind him. “She threw her drink at you?” He laughed, couldn’t help it.

“Slapped me, threw her drink at me, all while avoiding hitting the valuable and expensive technology in my ear, and then Renner menaced in my general direction until I left,” Deeks said. He started dabbing at his face and eyes with his t-shirt, apparently giving up on getting a towel.

“If Kensi had ruined your comm, she would have heard about it from Hetty for weeks,” G said. “Are you dripping into my backseat?”

\---

“ _Your home is beautiful_ ,” Kensi said. They could hear the soft thud of her heels on the hardwood floors while she wandered around, looking at things.

“ _I have a weakness for beautiful things_.” Renner’s voice was louder than it should be, which meant he was awfully close to Kensi.

“Seriously, who _says_ that?” Deeks moaned from the backseat. “I mean, that is seriously lame.”

“ _Why don’t you get us a drink_?” Kensi asked flirtatiously. “ _I need to use your restroom_.”

“ _I thought you were on call_?” Renner asked.

“ _I guess I just want to live dangerously tonight_ ,” Kensi answered. In the backseat, Deeks made gagging sounds.

“The kitchen window looks out to the street,” G said. “Keep an eye out, Deeks, make sure he’s not going to interrupt Kensi bugging his home office.”

“He’s pouring wine,” Deeks informed them. “God, it has a screw top. Who tries to seduce women with wine from a screw-top bottle?”

“There are actually a large number of wineries using screw-top bottles these days,” Sam supplied. “A screw top prevents oxidation and means the wine won’t accidentally become corked.”

“Great, Renner’s a _classy_ blackmailer of American heroes,” Deeks said, and G laughed. “Heads up, Kensi. He’s heading back out into the living room with his _classy_ screw-top wine.”

Kensi didn’t risk talking to them, but they could hear doors closing and then the sound of water running in the sink.

“ _There you are_ ,” Renner said, when Kensi’s heels thudded out into the hallways and living room again. “ _I hope my bathroom decor didn’t bother you too much_.”

“ _Of course not_ ,” Kensi answered. “ _What lovely, tasteful nudes_.” Deeks groaned again from the backseat. “ _Now, where were we_?”

“Page her,” Deeks said, knocking his head against the window. “She needs to be saved.”

They did; Kensi got the beep and made her excuses, making noises about wanting to see Renner again and asking for his number.

“Thank you for not letting any of the equipment get damaged, Agent Blye,” Hetty said when they all made it back. “Replacing comm units is becoming needlessly expensive.” Sam pretended not to see the glare she leveled at both him and G but couldn’t help squirming in his chair. “We’ll assess the information we receive from the bugs Ms. Blye planted at Renner’s home in the morning. Go home, get some sleep. That means you, Mr. Callen.”

Sam grinned over at G, and G picked up his things. “You need a ride home?” he asked Sam.

\---

 _This_ was something G never needed help with. Sam had one hand on his face, tilting his chin up so he could bite at his throat -- softer than G liked, but they did have to be at work tomorrow. G’s hand on his shoulder pulled him closer, arching up against him so his dick rubbed against Sam’s abs, leaving a slick _wet_ trail over his skin.

Sam rolled his hips down against G and, out of the corner of his eye, saw G bite his lip. G didn’t like to make noise. He loved hearing Sam’s but hated making them himself. It was weird, but so was G. His breath hitched the next time Sam bit down, and he reached out a hand to rummage around in Sam’s nightstand.

“Something you’re looking for, G?” Sam asked, teasing.

“This is where you keep the lube,” G answered. “What do you _think_ I’m looking for?” He rolled his hips up a few times, cock sliding against Sam’s own, and Sam groaned.

“Jesus, G,” Sam said and reached under the pillow G’s head was resting on for the lube G had left there.

“What’s it doing there?” G asked, grinning and rocking his hips forward again.

“It’s where you left it,” Sam answered and reached down with his free hand, pinning G’s hips  
against the bed. Heat flared in G’s eyes, the way it always did when Sam did this, and Sam  
shook his head. “You sure?” he asked, leaning in to kiss G, and G laughed against his mouth.

“Shut up and fuck me,” G said. Sam pulled back, reaching into the nightstand for a condom, and G turned over underneath him. He was on his stomach because Sam hadn’t given him enough room to get up on his knees. That was how G liked it best, hard from behind, with his hands fisted in the sheets while Sam’s low moans filled the room.

Sam ripped open the condom wrapper and then slicked it down over his cock, moving back to give G more room to maneuver. G knelt up and leaned his weight on his elbows so his ass was up in the air, slutty and inviting. Sam leaned in over him and pressed a lube-slick finger inside of him, watching closely for the way G exhaled and the way tension slowly left his shoulders.

Sam twisted his finger inside of him, pressing kisses to G’s back, and tried to hold him still. G liked to push it before he was really ready and would rock his hips back in tiny circular motions to get Sam deeper, even if it hurt. It made prep go faster, but Sam would prefer not to hear G making those sharp little inhales of pain. He spread his free hand over G’s lower back, applied pressure every time G tried to move and kept working his finger inside of him.

“Come on, Sam,” G tossed over his shoulder, and Sam gave in, sliding another finger alongside the first, pressing deep like he knew G wanted. G didn’t let him spend nearly as much time with the second or third finger, rocking his hips impatiently until Sam gave in and pulled them both out. He wiped them on one of the tissues he kept on his nightstand and moved in behind G.

“You’re so pushy,” Sam whispered, leaning over his back and positioning himself against G.

“Just know what I want,” G answered. He dropped his head down between his shoulders and rocked back hard, forcing Sam inside of him. Sam couldn’t miss G’s sharp inhale, but it didn’t stop him. He rocked back onto Sam’s cock hard, silent if Sam didn’t count his breathing, and Sam gave in, like he always did.

He leaned in all the way, shifted his weight onto his arms and pressed forward, sliding deeper into G. He knew he got it right by the way G’s body went loose around him, shifting his weight forward and letting Sam take him. Sam fucked deep and groaned near G’s ear, letting him hear how good he felt around him. If they were different people, Sam might have told him how much he thought of this at the most inopportune times, how he wanted to wake G up every morning by doing just this.

They weren’t, though, and Sam contented himself with kissing and biting the back of G’s neck while G clenched around him, back and thighs shuddering. It was enough, for now. G’s body opened to him, demanding more, and Sam’s cock inside of him was enough.

\---

Sam woke up from the light doze he’d been in since stripping off the condom when he felt the mattress dip beside him. G rolled out of bed and started searching around for his clothes. “Where are you going?” Sam asked, rolling onto his back.

“Home,” G said, still looking. “Or I will, once I find my underwear.” He grinned up at Sam from the foot of the bed. Sam sat up and shook his head in confusion. “Seriously, where could they have gone? Your bedroom isn’t _that_ big.”

“You don’t have to go,” Sam said.

“It’s later than you think it is, big guy.” G nodded his head toward Sam’s bedside alarm clock: twelve forty-five.

“I meant you don’t have to go at all,” Sam told him. “Stay the night, I’m sure you can find your underwear in the morning.”

G shrugged and stretched, the entire line of his body going taut in the dark. Sam could only stare. “It’s fine, Sam. Hardly the first time I’ve gone commando.” He pulled his jeans up over his bare hips and then dragged a t-shirt over his head. Sam was pretty sure the t-shirt was actually his.

He didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound clingy, not with G already putting his shoes and socks on. _I love you_ , he wanted to say, but that wasn’t their style and never would be. Instead, G finished lacing up his shoes and leaned in and kissed him. It was a slow kiss with lots of tongue, and G cupped his face the entire time.

“See you in the morning,” G whispered against his mouth, and then he was gone.

\---

“I don’t see how the bugs aren’t giving us any information,” Kensi huffed, leaning back against the table in the communications center. She glared at the monitors like they owed her money.

“We’re getting plenty of information,” Eric assured her. “It’s just all mostly circumstantial.”

“Have you had any luck with hacking his home system?” Hetty asked, and Eric shook his head.

“There’s a lot of encryption between me and the information we need.” Eric shrugged. “I think we’re going to need to go in.”

G grinned at Sam. “Cable guys?” he asked. “What about delivery men? You know, we haven’t been Jehovah’s Witnesses in far too long. It’s a shame you’d never pass for a Mormon.” Sam has a comeback, he does. He’s just interrupted by Nell throwing down her headphones and jumping up to clack on the keyboard for the big monitor.

“This you all need to hear,” she said and pulled up part of the recordings they were making of Renner’s home.

There’s the sound of an annoying ringtone and then Renner’s voice. “ _Hello_?” he said. “ _What the hell kind of question is that? No, I’m not trying to pull anything. She was a date. I picked her up at a bar. What are you, following me_?”

Even with only half the conversation, Sam knew that this was going to be a problem. “Cable guys and delivery men are going to be watched like hawks, G,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Especially seeing as we’re gonna need to get into his home _and_ office.”

“So we need to find a way to be inconspicuous,” G said and frowned.

“I know just the thing,” Hetty answered with a smile. Sam was man enough to admit that that particular smile scared him.

\---

“I don’t know if we have the same definition of inconspicuous, Hetty,” G said, taking the words right out of Sam’s mouth. “Because I’m really not sure how ‘married gay partners’ in any way fits the one I know.”

Deeks looked at Renner’s address again and then tilted his head to the side, considering for a second. “Are you two kidding me?” he finally said. Kensi just looked at him. “It’s Silver Lake! They’re not going to stand out.”

“The neighborhood actually received a very high gay friendly rating by _Out_ magazine,” Nell supplied helpfully.

“And it’s _Silver Lake_ ,” Deeks added and shook his head. “This is what happens when you let transplants wander LA trying to make decisions.”

“Just to be clear,” Sam finally cut in. “The plan is for me and G to go undercover as a married couple?”

“A _gay_ , married couple,” Deeks added helpfully.

“I think that’s homophobic, Deeks,” G said, somehow managing to keep a straight face. “It’s just married, unless you want to start calling it ‘straight married’ too.”

Deeks held up his hands. “Whoa! He’s been married to a man for all of a minute and already he’s militant.”

Sam held up his hand. “But that _is_ the plan?”

“Yes, Mr. Hanna,” Hetty answered, and her tone didn’t welcome argument.

“The house next door to Renner’s _is_ for rent,” G said, flipping through some pictures from their early surveillance.

“How does this get us access to his house?” Sam asked.

“Oh, that’s easy,” G replied. “We just have to come up with a reason one of us is always at the house. Working from home or being on sabbatical or something. Then we can break in while he’s at work because-” and G tapped some keys and pulled up another picture. He pointed at the fence, and Sam noted there was something off about it. “Those two houses share a back yard.”

That... was actually not a bad idea. Sam could admit that. “And his office?”

“It’s LA, his practice is a decent size. I’m sure he’d believe _one_ of us needed therapy,” G said and smirked.

“Yeah, the moment he meets you, G.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m sure he’d find a much _deeper_ root to what makes you so... you, Sam.” If G smirked any more, he’d be a cartoon.

“Well, _I_ believe that they’re a married couple,” Kensi broke in, and Sam turned around. He’d forgotten it wasn’t just him and G for a second there.

“So it’s settled, then.” Hetty smiled that scary smile again. “I’ll get started on acquiring you some furniture; Mr. Beal, begin falsifying their documentation.”

\---

“So there were movers at the house all morning?” Sam asked, tapping the hollowed-out Bluetooth headset like he was talking on it and not their comms. The drive to Renner’s house wasn’t all that different when it was light out, except for being more scenic.

“Your furniture is unloaded and set up,” Hetty explained. “There should be a minimal amount of actual unpacking for you and Mr. Callen to do.”

“I wonder what the neighbors will think of us not even unpacking our own home,” G asked idly. He was behind Sam in his own car, with several boxes of fake belongings and his actual duffel bag full of everything he owned in the world.

“That we’re smart, and the next time they move, they need to look into doing that?” Sam said, because that was exactly what he’d thought when Hetty explained it to him.

“I’m sure I voiced many objections and assured you we could manage on our own,” G answered.

“Yeah, that sounds like something a biology professor would do.” Sam pulled into the driveway and ended the conversation by pulling out his fake Bluetooth.

G’s cover story had been Kensi’s idea. G’s cover was that he was Richard Pomeroy, a biology professor on sabbatical from USC, and the sudden constant togetherness with Sam drove him to need therapy. It meant Eric had to hack USC’s faculty directory and replace the actual Richard Pomeroy’s picture with G’s, but other than that, the cover was a solid excuse for G to hang around the house all day.

Sam, on the other hand, was Julian Smith, a kindergarten teacher at an exclusive elementary school in the Pacific Palisades. Kindergarten had been Deeks’ idea; Sam still wanted to know how he had ended up with Deeks fabricating his cover story while he was busy putting in the requests for the undercover op. G got to be a professor on sabbatical, and he was stuck with being a kindergarten teacher.

“I’m clearly selectively hands on,” G said when Sam met him at his car. He handed him a box full of clothes out of Sam’s actual closet, leaning in a little too close for work, and made sure their hands brushed. “Best the neighbors get the idea sooner rather than later, right?” G asked him, looking up with the same look on his face he had when he wanted Sam to kiss him. It knocked him off balance, seeing it anywhere but his bedroom. G didn’t like kissing in public, hated being vulnerable where just anyone could see him.

Sam licked his lower lip and reminded himself that they _were_ working, and the look G was giving him was a part of it. He reached out under the box to run his hand over G’s hip and smiled. “Good idea,” he said.

“Clearly you’re just taking advantage of a chance to cop a feel,” G slung his duffel over his shoulder and followed Sam into the house. “You can admit it.”

“ _Do people really watch their neighbors_?” Kensi asked over the comms. “ _Is that something that happens to people who aren’t June Cleaver_?”

“ _Of course it does, Kensi_ ,” Deeks replied.

“ _I have_ never _cared about what my neighbors were doing, Deeks._ ”

“ _That’s because you’re the neighbor everyone in the building secretly spies on_.”

“ _Why would you say-_ ” Kensi began, but G cut her off.

“ _No, he has a point. If I lived in your building, I’d probably spy on you too_ ,” he said and set down his bag.

“ _You’re an odd man, Callen_ ,” Deeks said and laughed. Sam shook his head and went back outside to bring in the rest of the boxes from G’s car.

\---

They put the boxes away, ordered pizza and watched the Lakers destroy the Thunder. Sam figured ten-thirty was a reasonable time for a schoolteacher to go to sleep, and he left G on the couch, flicking through channels. He ran through his night-time routine of sit-ups and push-ups, all while listening to G switch through channels.

At eleven, G turned the television and the lights off. He didn’t come to bed, though, and Sam heard him moving around the house in the dark. He heard the clatter of tools in the kitchen and turned over, thanking whoever was looking out for him that G wasn’t speaking Russian.

\---

“How’s he doing?” Sam asked when he got into the office the next morning. He had a cup from Starbucks in his hand and pulled at his tie with the other.

“Nice shirt,” Deeks said at the same time as Kensi asked, “Should you be here?”

“This _is_ a nice shirt, thank you,” he said to Deeks and smoothed out the crisp, white Calvin Klein button-up he’d put on that morning. “And don’t worry. I left for work this morning, looked for a tail _and_ drove to the school, no one’s following me.”

“Is the shirt part of your cover?” Deeks seemed a little obsessed with Sam’s wardrobe.

“What exactly would you wear if _you_ taught kindergarten at an exclusive private school in the Palisades?” Sam asked him because seriously, some of them had SEAL tats to cover.

Deeks held up his hands. “I maybe would have gone with a little color is all. A pale pink, maybe bright green. Blue is a great color on me.”

“You want to test that out?” Sam asked, and Deeks laughed. “Seriously, though. How’s our boy doing?”

Kensi pointed up at the monitor, where they could see G doing something to the computer. “He put cameras up all over the house and at least three in Renner’s home office. Eric’s walking him through tapping his internet.”

“It’s not actually called that, but that’s basically what it is,” Deeks threw in.

“Thanks, Deeks.” Sam scowled. “I have done surveillance before.”

“Just putting in my two cents, big guy. Jesus, you take him away from Callen for more than a few hours and he gets all tetchy.”

\---

“So what we should do tonight,” G said, leaning forward over the counter like they were still talking about Sam’s day, “is fight.”

Sam looked up at him skeptically. “What kind of fight are you talking about?”

“Something loud enough to get noticed but not so loud the police haul you in?” G asked. At Sam’s bewildered look, he sighed. “Renner’s a smoker. I walked over at least six fresh butts when I broke into his house. I need an excuse to storm out of the house and into the backyard when he’s on a smoke break.”

“That’s actually a really good plan,” Sam said.

“You know, they didn’t make me Special Agent in Charge on account of how cute I am. Well, not _only_ for that.”

Sam laughed and looked at the time. “We should probably start fighting soon, you’re gonna need to be outside in the next twenty minutes.” G raised an eyebrow, and Sam shook his head. “You’ve never worked with smokers? Every two and a half hours, they’re like clockwork, especially if they’ve got a desk job that’ll let them.”

“Okay then,” G said, grinning. “Lay it on me.”

\---

“I just don’t understand why you can’t help me out!” Sam shouted. “I’m at work all day and you’re here-”

“I’m working too!” G shouted back. “Do you think my books just write themselves? I need to get six chapters to my editor by next month. I’m under the gun-”

“Whose fault is that?” Sam asked. “You’ve had months to work on it, and you said when we moved, you’d do a better job of managing your time. We’re supposed to go away when I’m on break-”

“My work is important to me!” G shot back and made for the door, making a _wrap it up_ gesture with his hands. “I have to word things just right and you-”

“You never spend any time with me!” Sam shouted, and G shot him a murderous glare while he tried desperately not to laugh.

“Definitely not when you’re constantly bitching at me!” G shouted back and slammed out the back door.

“ _Can I just say that you two are a little too good at that?_ ” Deeks asked over the comms.

“ _Pipe down so we can listen to G and Renner_ ,” Sam answered back.

“ _You married_?” G asked. “ _Yeah, well do yourself a favor and don’t._ ” G laughed at something Renner said. “ _You have another one of those? Yeah, technically I quit. My old man doesn’t like it, but sometimes you just really need a nicotine fix, right?_ ”

“ _Did Callen just call you his old man_?” Deeks practically giggled into his ear.

“ _Better than ball-and-chain, I guess_ ,” Kensi replied.

“ _You’re both hilarious_ ,” Sam told them.

“ _What are you, a therapist_?” G asked Renner. “ _Oh, well, you really think that’s a good idea? Of course I love him. I just wish he’d get off my back sometimes._ ” Sam ignored the slight twist in his belly at hearing G say he loved him. It’s not that it’s not true, it’s just that G would never say it. G telling perfect strangers he loved him was their cover and nothing more. Instead, he focused on G manipulating their way into his office.

“ _Julian has a half day tomorrow, I mean... I guess we could come in_?” G said to Renner, and even Sam would have been fooled by the uncertainty in his voice.

“ _Damn, he’s good_ ,” Deeks echoed over the comms.

“ _We’ve got our way in. Now you two need to actually go and do some work on following the leads we got from Renner’s computer,_ ” Sam told them.

The door opened again, and G stood in the doorway for a second with an apologetic look on his face. “Baby, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll do the dishes right now.”

“Thank you, that’s all I wanted to hear,” Sam answered. When G closed the door, he flipped him off.

“Prick,” he whispered, and G grinned.

“Such a sweet-talker,” he answered.

\---

“God, you smell like an ashtray,” Sam told him later while they were brushing their teeth in the bathroom.

“Sharing cigarettes creates an instant rapport,” G informed him around a mouthful of foam. “It was necessary for our cover.”

“You’re making that up,” Sam answered. G shrugged, noncommittally. “No way you know that but not how often heavy smokers take their smoke breaks.” G smirked. “Nope, I don’t believe it.”

G spit into the sink. “Keep up that disbelieving attitude,” he said. “That will definitely help my case in couples therapy.”

“ _Couples therapy_? Are you kidding me?” Sam asked, speechless.

G shrugged. “It’s what Renner suggested, and he gave me a card for someone in his practice that does it.”

“Yeah, but _couples therapy_ , G?” Sam asked again. He’d done couples therapy with his ex, and he sure as hell didn’t want to go again.

“Next time, _you_ be the one to squeeze an invite out of a stranger,” G shot back. “I wasn’t exactly going to turn him down.”

“Fine,” Sam said, shaking his head. G rinsed his mouth and gargled some mouthwash. He had to tip his head back to do it and still had flecks of foam in the corners of his mouth. Sam shook his head and stopped watching, leaning forward to rinse his mouth out. G looked stupid like that, there was no reason for his stomach to feel warm at how it felt to be doing something as ordinary as brushing his teeth with him.

Sam shuffled behind G to leave the bathroom when G caught his eye in the mirror. “Want to get up early for a run together?” G asked him, looking at him in the mirror.

“Sure,” Sam answered. “And take a shower. I wasn’t kidding when I said you smelled like an ashtray.”

“You’re the one who claims to have all the experience with smokers,” G teased.

“Yeah, but I didn’t have to share close quarters with any of them,” Sam answered.

G looked skeptical. “Not even in the Navy?” Sam was ready to remind him that SEALs aren’t exactly big smokers, but there was something in the way G said it that made him meet G’s eyes in the mirror.

“ _Especially_ not in the Navy, G,” he said because Sam’s never made a habit of sleeping with people he worked with, and he definitely didn’t back when it could cost him the only job he ever wanted.

“Never?” G didn’t sound like he believed him.

“Never,” Sam said.

G smiled and reached down to pull his shirt off. “Guess I’ll take a shower then.”

\---

“You’re the Smith-Pomeroys?” Dr. Eva Gordon, MA, PhD asked them. Her office was done in creams, red and dark wood and managed to be minimalist without coming across as fussy. Sam was impressed.

“Pomeroy-Smiths,” G corrected and smirked at Sam.

“I’m Julian Smith,” Sam introduced himself and held out his hand for her to shake. “And this is my husband, Richard Pomeroy, but he prefers to go by Dick.” G shook her hand and while Dr. Gordon took a seat, he glared at him.

“So, tell me about the two of you,” Dr. Gordon asked them. She’d perfected a patient, non-judgemental tone, which already put her a step up from the therapist he and his ex-wife had gone to see. “How long have you been married? How did you two meet? Whatever you think is important.”

“Well, Dick and I got married in September, two years ago,” Sam told her because Eric had gone all out and forged a digital marriage certificate from when it was still legal. “But we’ve been together for six years.”

He looked to G to explain how they met, because G was a lot better at filling in backstory that way. “We met at a Starbucks,” G said. “We were both in a hurry, and the place was crowded, so when the girl at the counter called out my drink order, I reached for it. Only he’d ordered the same thing. He was hot, so I gave him my number -- and the rest is kind of history.” He shrugged when he said it, like it was just that simple.

“And what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” she asked, leaning forward.

“We’ve been... fighting a lot,” G said and looked at Sam like he needed to be backed up.

“Dick went on sabbatical recently, and all of the togetherness really has us at each other’s throats,” Sam added pointedly.

Dr. Gordon nodded. “Dick, you’re on sabbatical from...?”

“USC,” G said with a smile. “I’m tenured faculty there in the biology department. I’m on sabbatical while I work on my next book.”

“And I’m still working outside of the home. I teach all day, and when I come home, I hope to see that Dick’s done a little around the house to help pick up.”

“And _I_ expect to have Julian respect my work enough to realize that I’m still working hard, even when I’m not leaving the house.”

“Working hard on your fantasy league,” Sam threw at him.

“That was _one_ time!” G turned, looking affronted.

“Okay!” Dr. Gordon held up her hands. “Okay, let’s try a different track. How about I talk to each of you individually to try and figure out what it is you two need to work through?”

Jackpot. “I’ll just leave you two then,” Sam said, getting up to leave.

\---

Eric had talked him through tapping Renner’s work computer and copying relevant files onto a flash drive for him. “ _Now it’s up to him to check the hard copies_ ,” Sam said while he sat waiting for his turn.

“ _How is it Callen ends up with the job that might mean he has to shove paperwork down the front of his pants_?” Eric asked over comms.

“ _Because I’m such a nice guy, and I have the sickeningly cute Starbucks meet-cute story to prove it_ ,” Sam told him.

“ _I thought that was sweet_ ,” Eric mumbled.

“ _You would_.”

The door to Dr. Gordon’s office opened. “Mr. Smith?” she called, and G stepped out from behind her. He’d fed her some lines about how he’d been working late nights before his sabbatical and how that had caused some tension, and they’d hoped moving into a larger home and him taking time off would fix that.

He smirked at G on his way in, and G rolled his eyes once he was sure Dr. Gordon couldn’t see them.

“So,” Dr. Gordon said, taking a seat. “What is it _you_ wanted to talk about?”

Sam shrugged. “We’ve been fighting a lot more, lately. I thought things would change when we moved and I had Dick around more, but it hasn’t.”

“And why do you fight?” she asked.

“Well, before it was about how late he worked, and now it’s about how he doesn’t help around the house. I feel like he doesn’t really respect what I do, because he acts like it’s perfectly easy for me to come home and clean the house, do the dishes and make dinner, when it’s not.”

“Dick doesn’t do housework?” Dr. Gordon asked.

Sam snorted. “He’s not the domestic type.”

“I noticed that,” Dr. Gordon said, and Sam raised an eyebrow. “You said you’d been together six years, and I believe that -- you two have a familiarity with each other that speaks to that -- but you haven’t touched each other once since you walked into my office.”

“Well, we’re in your office,” Sam said because it would hardly be appropriate for him to make out with G in here, even if they really were Julian and Richard Pomeroy-Smith.

“I’m not talking about anything ostentatious or inappropriate,” Dr. Gordon said. “I’m talking about the incidental sort of touching that a lot of couples do in their everyday lives.”

“Dick’s not one for public displays,” he said because it was true and totally normal.

“And how does that make you feel?” Dr. Gordon crossed her legs and leaned back in her seat.

“I’m fine with it,” Sam said. “I love Dick and I respect his boundaries.”

“Does he have a lot of them?” Dr. Gordon replied.

“What do you mean?”

“Boundaries. The way you said that, it sounded like something you might have told yourself fairly often.” She said it all with that same non-judgemental look and tone she’d had since he walked in.

“Dick’s a complicated person; that’s part of what I love about him,” Sam said and tried not to think about how true it was. “I’d be kind of an asshole if I made him do everything my way and didn’t care about any of his boundaries.”

“But you’re married now,” Dr. Gordon said. “And it’s been six years. It isn’t unreasonable for you to hope he’d let you in a little more, or change his behavior to accommodate you on occasion.”

Sam swallowed. “And you think I’m picking fights with him about other things because of this?”

“I think it’s possible it’s all connected to you not feeling close to Dick,” she said with a shrug. “But it’s not important what _I_ think, it matters what _you_ think.”

Sam broke her gaze, uncomfortable with the conversation and the way it made his stomach twist. He caught sight of the clock and nodded at it. “Looks like our time is up,” he said.

She smiled. “That’s usually my line. I’ll go get Dick, and we’ll schedule a follow-up.”

\---

“I don’t see how I’m _always_ the one who ends up with paper cuts on my stomach,” G said, and stepped into the bathroom with him. Sam turned and glanced down at the strip of belly G had exposed by pulling up his shirt.

“I don’t see anything,” he said around his toothbrush, and spit into the sink.

“It’s there,” G assured him. “You took out your comm.”

“I’m about to take a shower,” Sam explained, rinsing his toothbrush.

“What a coincidence,” G said. He grinned, sly and a little dirty, and lifted his shirt up over his head. “So was I.”

Sam turned on the shower and stripped too. Nothing was going to happen with the case tonight, no way. Kensi and Deeks were still trying to chase down the leads they got from Renner’s office, and they wouldn’t need either of them. It wasn’t a great idea; he’d promised himself a long time ago, when this first started with him and G, that they wouldn’t do anything on the job.

G was naked, though, and the job _was_ their life right now, so when G stepped into the shower stall, Sam followed him. “We’re lucky this shower is big enough for both of us,” G said, leaning close. His skin was warm and his smile more than welcoming, but there was something off to the line of his shoulders, something tense and uncertain. G reached out and laid his palm flat against Sam’s stomach. “I see someone’s had a few burgers recently,” he teased. “You know, no matter how many sit-ups you do, you-”

Sam cut him off with a kiss and pressed him back against the shower tile, holding him against the wall. “Shhh,” he whispered against G’s mouth. He held his hands out against the wall, one on either side of G’s tense shoulders, and leaned in again. Sam tilted his head to the side, ran his tongue over the seam of G’s mouth and licked inside.

He kept kissing him, deep and wet until G’s mouth didn’t feel like he was forcing himself to keep it in place. Then he pulled away, dragged his mouth over the stubble on G’s jaw and throat and dropped his arms onto G’s shoulders. From this close, the dull, red scars spread across G’s chest stood out, and Sam leaned down to slide his mouth over the nearest.

The scar tissue was slick against Sam’s mouth, and G didn’t stop him, so he continued, moved down to the next one, just under his pectoral. He licked over it once, pressed a kiss there and then moved on to the next one. G shuddered above him, so Sam kept going, mouth sliding over the muscles of G’s stomach and sides until he knelt in front of G, both hands on his thighs.

G’s hand dropped down to his shoulder and slid over to the back of his neck. When Sam looked up, he was watching him, eyes dark and all traces of humor missing from his face. Sam reached up, moved one of G’s hands from his neck to the back of his head, closed his eyes and opened his mouth. G wasn’t hard, not yet, and Sam closed his mouth over his soft cock and ran his tongue over the underside, groaning while G got hard in his mouth.

G’s grip tightened on the back of his head and he rocked his hips forward, breath hitching slowly. Sam opened his eyes, and G was watching him, face tipped down to watch his cock fuck Sam’s mouth.

“Sam,” G said, and Sam pulled off.

“Turn around, G,” he said, and G shuddered, his stomach clenching -- but he did as Sam said.

They’d never really done this. Not because G said he didn’t like it or Sam didn’t like doing it, just because it took time, and G wasn’t the most patient lover Sam’s ever had. So when Sam reached out to spread G open and pressed the flat of his tongue against G’s hole, he wasn’t expecting the way G lifted his ass up, silently asking for more. Sam gave it to him, flicked his tongue against him again and traced the rim of G’s hole. He licked over him, getting him wet, and then pointed his tongue to press inside.

G opened up, rocked back, ever so slightly against Sam’s mouth and spread his thighs. It was the only thing besides the occasional harsh exhale that gave away how much G wanted this, and those Sam could barely hear over the sound of the water. “Sam, c’mon,” G whispered but didn’t stop undulating back against Sam, fucking himself on Sam’s tongue. “Fuck me, come on.”  
“G?” he asked, pulling away.

“I’m serious,” G said and leaned to rest his forehead against the tile.

“Do you have anything?” he asked, getting up off his knees and frowning at the slight twinge in his legs.

“Use your spit,” G said and took a deep breath.

“I don’t want-”

“It’ll be enough,” G told him, voice strained, and Sam stepped forward, pressed himself up against G’s back to look over his shoulder and looked down. G was hard, leaking against his own belly, and Sam turned to look G in the face.

“You only ever had to ask,” Sam told him, because anything that got G this hot, Sam wanted to be a part of. He would have rimmed G every fucking night if G liked it this much. “I want-”

“Fuck me, now,” G told him, voice tight. “Do it.”

“I don’t have any-”

“You’d know if I had something,” G told him, looking back over his shoulder. “I’d know if you did too.” Sam knew what G meant; their jobs meant regular physicals and blood work, and it hadn’t been anyone but G in a long, long time. He hadn’t doubted it was the same for G, but it felt different hearing him say it like that, admit it.

Sam put his fingers in his mouth, pressed spit-slick fingers inside of G and tried to remind himself that G has always liked it a little rough. It seemed like too much, like there was a line on how rough G might like it and two of Sam’s fingers in his ass with nothing but spit slicking the way might be it, but he was wrong.

G nodded, back bowed and hips thrusting back for more. “Now,” he hissed, fists white-knuckled against the tile. “C’mon, do it.”

Sam spit into his hand and slicked it over his cock, guided himself up against G’s hole and pressed inside. “Jesus, G,” he breathed against his back. “You’re too tight,” he said because he was, too hot and too tight, and he couldn’t thrust, but he could work his hips in small little circles, just a little deeper each time.

G let out another ragged breath and rocked back, but it was too much. “Stay,” Sam told him, reaching out to hold his hips still. “Just stay, G.” He reached around with his free hand, jerked G’s cock with firm, steady strokes.

They both came like that, G’s body clenched tight around Sam and his cock spilling into Sam’s hand.

\---

“We going for a run?” Sam asked, walking into the kitchen.

G glared at him and Sam grinned, loving to give him hell for overdoing it. “I don’t _feel_ like it today,” G said. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere?”

“It’s Saturday, not even fancy private schools have class on Saturday.”

“ _Look alive, gentlemen_ ,” Kensi called out over the comms. “ _Me and Deeks chased down a couple of leads from the papers you gave us. Turns out one of the men Renner worked with before he landed the contract with the military was an ex-con named Chris Wayne. Now, back in Folsom, Chris Wayne shared a prison cell with Kevin James.”_

 _“ _And?_ ” G asked, clearly impatient for more information._

“ _Kevin James of Jamiyyat Ul-Islam Is-Saheed_?” Sam asked because that was some serious shit.

“ _The one and only_ ,” Kensi confirmed.

“ _Callen, to break that out for those of us who don’t spend all our lives reading old military reports and occasionally get laid_ ,” Deeks began, with Kensi scoffing in the background, “ _Kevin James was apparently the mastermind behind a failed bombing attempt here in Los Angeles. He was converted to Islam in prison by some radical fringe group, and as soon as he was released, he started recruiting to wage war on America by bombing synagogues, an Israeli consulate and several military bases_.”

“ _And what does_ this _have to do with Renner_?” G asked.

“ _Homeland Security couldn’t find any proof of any other conspirators in the bomb plot _,” Sam told them. “ _But even if that’s true, that doesn’t mean no one else came out of that prison with similar ideas_.” At G’s skeptical look, Sam shook his head. “ _I mean it. Radical prison Imams take advantage of the powerlessness that inmates feel in order to turn them into weapons. They twist the Koran until it suits their needs. There’s no reason James’ cellmate wouldn’t have been just as taken in as anyone else_.”__

“ _We didn’t find any evidence that Renner’s secretly practicing Islam, radical or otherwise_ ,” G said.

“ _There’s no reason why we would_ ,” Kensi said. “ _Renner’s just a middle-man. A means to an end. Think about James and his men: they were caught while knocking over gas stations to raise funds for their attacks. What’s a much quicker way to raise money in the states_?”

“ _Importing it_ ,” G agreed. “ _Either drugs that are easy to sell or the money itself_.”

“ _That’s a_ lot _of money_ ,” Deeks said. “ _I don’t even want to_ know _what they’re planning to do with that much_.”

“ _How about we find them before it comes to that_?” G said.

“ _We’re coming up on Wayne’s last known address now_ ,” Kensi said. “ _We’ll tell you when we’ve got more_.”

\---

“Famous last words, huh, Blye?” Deeks asked, pressing an ice-pack to his forehead.

“How was I supposed to know they’d be hiding a terrorist cell in Pico-Union?” Kensi shot back. “Just be glad I didn’t leave you when your gun jammed.”

“My gun did _not_ jam,” Deeks said. “I was waiting for my shot.”

“A little more waiting and the bad guys would have got away.” Kensi punched his shoulder and grinned.

“I think, between your and Mr. Deeks’ heroics and Mr. Callen and Mr. Hanna’s apprehension of Mr. Renner, we can call this a success,” Hetty broke in. “Now, if you’ll all be so kind as to fill out your expense reports _by the end of the week_ , I won’t have to put your heads on pikes in front of my office, to serve as a reminder to the next team that runs through here.” She smiled pleasantly and waved at them all before departing for her office.

“Seriously though, guys,” Deeks asked, “how is someone so tiny so incredibly terrifying?”

“It’s one of the mysteries of Hetty,” G said and then kicked Sam’s chair. “I’m going to need a ride. I’ve got my bag, but my car is still technically down at the LAPD.”

\---

“ _You_ don’t feel like watching the game?” Sam asked, putting away what was left of their take-out cartons.

“It’s the Lakers against the Bulls. Is that even a game?” G asked.

“Noah and Rose got skills, G. You have to admit.”

G shrugged. “I’m actually kind of tired.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam answered. “You’re _never_ tired.”

G shrugged again. “There’s a first time for everything,” he said.

“Seriously, what’s going on?”

G looked down at the counter and then out the window. “I heard you yesterday,” he said, painfully casual. “With Dr. Gordon.”

Sam swallowed. “That was us being undercover,” he said. “It was for the case.”

G looked up at him for a second and rolled his eyes. “I can’t...” He frowned, clearly thinking. “This is something I can do for you. Let’s go to bed.”

Yesterday, G had heard him say more about their relationship than Sam ever even wanted to say aloud. Put into context, it made last night in the shower make a lot more sense: how tense G had been, how much of himself he showed Sam that he tended to keep hidden, from how much he enjoyed rimming to how rough he could take it and still enjoy it.

Sam reached up to cup G’s cheek, tipped his face up and leaned in to kiss him. He’d probably spend his whole life cursing the world for giving G the kind of life that made it this difficult for him to be completely honest with Sam about what he liked in bed. “You can give me whatever _you_ want, G,” he said. “Anything you want.”

He pulled back, turned around and made for his bedroom. On the way, he stopped at his linen closet and pulled out a clean blanket. “What’s that for?” G asked and slid his thumb down the line of Sam’s back.

“There’s fresh sheets on the bed in the guest room,” he explained. “But you’ll want a new blanket.”

G frowned. “I told you I’d-”

“You don’t sleep, G,” Sam interrupted with a smile. If G was trying, he could too. “Stay with me until I’m asleep, then go ahead and do your thing.”

**Author's Note:**

> title from "Mama Said Knock You Out" by LL Cool J


End file.
